Dirty Little Secret
by Rune-Spirit
Summary: During an interview Zakuro admits to having a 'mystery man.' Who is he and does he return her feelings? PxZ


RS: In a talk show interview, Zakuro admits to having a 'mystery man.' But who is he, and does her return her feelings?

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**Dirty Little Secret**

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we're almost out of time. So, last question: always working, Miss Fujiwara, isn't there a special someone in your life? Someone to make time for? A romantic interest, maybe?" It seemed that the woman in question did not hesitate with her answer. A fake smile plastered on her face, though the world saw genuine happiness, she forced herself to laugh melodically, something else for the public to see as real. Lifting her hand, she brushed some stray strands of hair out of her face and tucked them behind her ear.

But through all this was the war. The war raging within her, the inner battle for an answer. _Was_ there someone? Of course not, but god how she wanted there to be. She missed it: the thrill of kissing one's boyfriend, the electricity of his hands on you, the excited insecurity of having his lips on yours. The anxiety was thrilling; were you doing it right? Was he enjoying it as much as you were? Where should you put your hands? Were you messing it up? Was he secretly laughing at you? Oh, but it felt so good. She wanted that; she _missed_ that. She missed having someone to feel all these emotions with.

But that was her dirty little secret, not for the prying tabloids or curious talk show hosts. It was none of their business, anyway, whose mouth was touching hers or who was buying her dinner. But they all asked nonetheless, they all wanted to know. Who won the heart of this world-renowned celebrity? Was there some way they could spin her relationship so it looked like she was some sort of slut or cheap floozy? She'd never allow them the satisfaction.

"No," Zakuro shook her head, a faux blush painting her cheeks for modesty as light giggles escaped her lips in what she knew sounded like an abashed tone, "there's no one right now." She knew what was coming now; the damned interviewer would push for more information. She wouldn't believe, instead milking the question for all it was worth. She needed to make the last bit as interesting as possible, so she'd persevere.

As predicted, the woman sent her query a sly and disbelieving look, "Oh? A talented thing like you, so pretty and smart? Surely there must be boys come knocking! Another celebrity, perhaps? It's been said that you and Katsuro Matsushita have something going on, is there any basis to these rumors?" Ah yes, the joys of paparazzi and tabloids; everything's their business, even if it never happened.

She shook her head, setting the record straight, "Purely gossip; I haven't seen Katsuro Matsushita since Masatomo Aburakoji's ball. And even then, we merely shared a table with a handful of others. I assure you, he and I are simply friends." That answer would never satisfy her, nothing ever would, or at least nothing short of proclaiming some sort of scandalous love affair with a married celebrity whose love child she was carrying. The interviewer would push on, desperate to uncover something in the final few minutes, perhaps even seconds, of her show.

"Oh, well what a shame. But surely there must be _someone_! I know when I was your age, young and still able to move," there was light laughter at the woman's attempted joke, the pale model forcing out false chuckles when really she wanted to gag, "I had many the crush. Is there anybody you pine after, perhaps too shy to make a move?" She reenacted her performance from the earlier question, feigning bashfulness while inside her mind was whirring.

"Well…" she paused. Yes, of _course_ there was someone. But he'd never see her, and who was she to care about a crush anyway? They were not meant to be together, so different yet so the same. She'd bury the feelings, but perhaps admitting to them first would help? Should she tell them, this group of strangers, her dirty little secret?

"Uh-oh, looks like we're about to uncover some dirt!" the talk show host teased, as the audience laughed and leaned forward in anticipation.

"There is something like that… but it's just a silly adolescent crush, really. I don't plan to act on it, so it really doesn't matter. But ssshhhh, it's our little secret." She'd played coy and earned some laughs for the end of the show. But from the moment those words left her mouth she knew that she was digging her own grave. How could she not?

It would be front-page news: 'Zakuro Fujiwara's mystery man! Who is this diva harboring feelings for? Our speculations inside.' And a picture of her, looking innocent as can be. Then would come the managers, all hoping to play out on the story by convincing her to date their client and claim him as the 'mystery man.' It was a disaster waiting to happen, really, but there was nothing that could be done now. It was over, all said and done. She couldn't take her words back after that.

After the interview ended her limo took her home and she got ready for work. All the while thoughts of _him_ plagued her mind, the _real_ mystery man. She wondered fleetingly if there was anyone who knew, if there was anyone even remotely aware of her feelings towards him. Perhaps he'd already figured it out; or maybe her teammates, the closest things to friends she'd ever had, already knew. She arrived at work and the day commenced uneventfully. Taking orders, giving food, cleaning plates, leaving bills… she wondered if the day's specials would be permanently engraved in her mind after reciting them so many times. But, then again, she wondered that everyday and they never were.

That night she sat before her mirror, brushing her long hair just before bed. Placing her brush on the vanity, she looked down to her lap and sighed dejectedly. Thoughts of him plagued her mind still, infecting her brain uncontrollably no matter how she tried to stop it. Looking back up into the glass, his reflection was there. Spinning around to face him in shock, his body was there. Standing, she regarded him defensively but he made no move to attack, only stood there and watched her as an unidentifiable emotion filled his eyes. An unspoken truce was shared.

Stepping forward, she reached out to cup his soft cheeks, fingertips tracing his jaw lightly as she slid her palms into place, testing if he was real. He hesitated for only a moment before moving to hold her hips in his larger grip, pulling her flush against him, and wrapping his arms around her thin waist. She gasped at the contact and his grip slid down, eliciting a groan. Zakuro hugged the taller male, arms around his shoulders and head burrowed into her neck, where she slowly began to kiss. He turned his head to the side and caught her soft lips with his own, mouth open with tongue sliding out. She moaned his name, as they continued before he pulled away slowly. Her cheeks were flushed pink, his eyes were glazed with lust, their lips were puffy from use.

And this continued. Every battle the found themselves hidden away from their teams, pushing each others' boundaries and getting further with each time. After their time together it would always be the same. He would gaze down at her smaller form with a mix of lust and that other unidentifiable emotion, with lips puffy just like hers, and he would almost smile before it faded away. He would run a hand through his locks, the hair that matched hers only darker, and sigh. Then, they would go their separate ways and await their next chance to be alone. Filthy dreams plagued their minds, but never would they let others know. They were the oldest, their teammates, respectively, looked up to them. And fraternizing with the enemy was frowned upon, even when the enemy could do all types of fascinating things with their tongue.

But such was life. And anyway, Pai and Zakuro kind of liked their dirty little secret.

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RS: So yeah. That's it. Leave a review, please and thank you! 


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